


Ouroboros Tattoo

by DarthSuki



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmate-Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-31 01:18:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12121413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: “So you’re the one!” He exclaimed.Your brows furrow.“I’m the...one…?” You weren’t sure what he was getting at, confusion and caution quickly filling your thoughts as the light of the sun continues to dim. It was starting to get late, and your mind was already overfilled with thoughts and questions--it had barely registered what it meant that both of you had the same tattoo on your hands. “I’m sorry sir, but I need to get home, I appreciate your help and--”“You’re the one who kept writing all those messages on my arms years ago.”





	Ouroboros Tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble that turned out being much, much longer than a drabble.
> 
> [Written for my Fullmetal Alchemist reader-insert imagine/writing blog, Fullmetalwritings.](https://fullmetalwritings.tumblr.com/)

It’s a very strange tattoo. Where some people had quote quotes, personal symbols or maybe even names of their soulmates (for the most blunt of people), the only tattoo on your body was the singular one on the back of your hand. It took you a long time to figure out what it was, let alone what it meant.

Ouroboros. You found the symbol in an old book on alchemy after a long couple days of research, looking for some meaning to a tattoo that nobody seemed to have any information on. You knew for a long time that it was something from your soulmate, wherever they were, but you couldn’t begin to imagine why they had it or what it meant. Were they an alchemist? The child of an alchemist?

Since soulmate marks didn’t appear until young adulthood, it was a mystery to know when exactly your soulmate got the tattoo or what it would signify. It took a long time to accept the lone mark on your body, yourself too scared to get something as permanent and blunt as your own name tattooed on your body (though it was rather common for some, marking their own name on their wrist for their soulmate to find). 

Some people used to say that markers would still show, if only temporarily, but you never got a response from your soulmate even after covering your arms with messages, with questions--you never once got a reply.

Years passed since the mark appeared on the back of your left hand and, as many do, you stopped thinking much about the mark and lived on your life, content with the fact that you will find them whenever the time was right.

* * *

 

You still don’t understand why you were the one who had to go out shopping for food. It wasn’t as if your roommate didn’t have a completely free schedule for the next few days, or if you had other errands you needed to worry about more-- _ oh no _ , it wasn’t at all as if you were annoyed for having to tote around several heavy cloth bags filled with items from the bakery, farmer’s market and butcher. Nevertheless, the negative thoughts fell empty as you instead tried to consider the positives. Like dinner! At least the fresh food would help figuring out dinner much easier; there are so few options when there’s barely anything in the pantry.

You turned a corner--a shortcut, really--down into a narrow alley that would cut at least ten minutes from your walk home. It wasn’t so much a back alley as it was a narrow path, just narrow enough for it to be inaccessible by an automobile, but more than wide enough for you to bustle through. There were a few storefronts down the alley, though most of them consisted of bars and abandoned buildings waiting for a tenant that might never buy it out. 

Most of the bars weren’t even open anyway, it was still a touch too early in the day for that, so you figured the path wouldn’t be anything more than a quicker route home.

“Hey there,” a voice purred, sickly-sweet, from the door of one of the bars. “What’s a lil’ thing like you down a street like this?”

Well, that was a quick. You didn’t turn your head, didn’t even flick your eyes in the direction of the voice. Your steps quickened into a near-jog, hoping that the pace would put enough room between you and the stranger so that they would just leave you alone. Maybe they were just looking to pickup someone, maybe they were trying to harass someone, anyone unwitting or idiotic enough to take this seedy back road--someone like you.

You tried to ignore the voice, low and masculine, and continued to walk with groceries in-hand. For a few moments you thought you were free, but the sound of footsteps behind you made your heart sink. A hand suddenly grabbed one of your arms, forcing you to whip around to see the owner of the hand gripping you still.

“Ain’t that rude,” you heard, turning to see a man towering over you. He was big, muscled, and his expression looked somewhere between predatory and amused. A scar pulled down one side of his face. He wasn’t a man you were familiar with, but he didn’t look like a man who was particularly friendly.

“Let me go,” You tried to keep your voice firm. 

“Not until you answer my question, sweetheart.”

The voice was still so sickly-sweet, overly coated in kindness that it almost made you sick to your stomach. You tried struggling against the hold, but between his grip and the weight of the bags in your hand, the motion felt nearly impossible. Your heart hammered with anxious worry. The man’s fingers gripped even harder around your arm, a sense of pain quickly shooting through the limb from the pressure of his fingers. 

Just as you opened your mouth to say something (you’re still not sure what that something was) another voice rang out. A new voice. 

“What in the world is a piece of trash like you doin’ in my alley, Harley?”

You blinked, feeling the man’s grip loosen for only a moment. He turned, pulling you with him as you and he both caught sight of a second man approaching casually. You’re not exactly sure where the new stranger came from, but you surely couldn’t care any less about the details when you already were terrified.

You yanked against the man’s grip, pulling your arm through his fingers until he instead had a hold on your wrist. The pressure and weight on your hand made you drop the bags of groceries onto the brick road below, no doubt ruining most of what was inside--several items rolled out of the confines.

“Let go of me!” You said again, more forceful, trying even harder to get your hand back. “Let go of me right now or else I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” The man said, momentarily returning his gaze to you. When you had no argument, he seemed satisfied, content to return a look at the man who had nearly walked up to the two of you.

Even though you couldn’t get a full sight of him from behind the man practically harassing you, you were able to see enough to get an idea.

Tall and lean, muscles defined on his bare arms just enough to figure that he was strong. He looked rough, like someone you’d expect to be hiding out on these back roads, with his short hair somewhat slicked-back, sunglasses covering his eyes. The man’s hands were deep in the pockets of his pants, giving him an appearance that was far too casual for the situation.

“I’m nowhere near your damn bar, Greed,” The man practically sneered, as if he was taking some sort of personal pleasure from the logical play, a past agreement he seemed to think he was in the right of. “I don’t recall this being one of your whores either. Who do you think you are to tell me what to do in the free space of the public?”

The expression on Greed’s face fell from casual politeness to something neutral, though you could feel a sense of animosity radiating from him somehow, some way. You could feel a moment of anger that felt, above anything, inhuman. It wasn’t directed at you at least. 

After a moment, Greed pulled his hands out of his pockets. He glanced towards you for a moment and--

Was he looking at your hand?

The look moved faster than you could follow, back towards the burly man grabbing you. There seemed to be a moment of contemplation on his face, a silent moment of thought that only last for a breath or two of time.

Within a blink of time, suddenly you felt your wrist come free from the grip, sending you tumbling backwards onto your ass as the motion unbalanced you. In the span of the time from reeling back to catching your thoughts (and breath), the man was on the ground himself, several steps away, and Greed was practically hovering over him. His fists were covered with a layer of shiny, black substance, and your harasser looked as if he’d been punched. Blood was dripping down his face, a broken nose probably the least of the injuries your newfound savior had inflicted.

“If I see you in this alley again, I’m going to break something more than your nose.” 

The voice that flowed from the man’s lips were deep, something powerful and husky that left your mind welling for a moment--it latched onto your attention like nothing else, like a memory that you’ve long-forgotten, just at the edges of recollection. 

It felt like forgotten nostalgia.

In the span of barely a minute, you were left alone in the alley with Greed, your attacker running off with a stream of curses and threats falling from his mouth, though the other man didn’t bother pursuing him any. 

It took a moment to realize that you were shaking, surrounded by a mess of groceries, your left hand gently pulled toward your chest in a moment of vulnerable fear for the man you were left with.

He approached you slowly, finally kneeling down just a few feet away.

“Hey there,” He said, pushing his glasses up and propping them on his head so you could see his eyes. They looked purple, inhumanly bright, and they stared at you with an odd intensity that didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. There was a lot of things to notice about the man, but one thing stuck out more than anything else the moment that your eyes caught the bright color in your peripheral vision.

On the back of his left hand, there was a tattoo, bright red and very familiar.

An ouroboros. The same one that was on your left hand, the one you were clutching to your chest.

“So what’s your name?” the man asked, flashing a gentle grin. The look should have been frightening, a strange man with an inhuman aura floating around him who punched a man almost a foot and a hundred pounds over him into retreating. His smile was toothy and sharp, but his voice, as it had been moments before, felt oddly welcoming.

Despite your better judgement, you give him your name.

He contemplates your answer for a moment, then gently reaches out for your left hand. When you twitch, Greed pauses.

“I’m just lookin’ at something, don’t worry,” he purred, voice sounding as though he was comforting a small animal. You offer your hand to him after a moment. 

Greed gently takes your wrist, rolling your hand over so he can see the tattoo on the back of your hand, the exact same symbol that was on his hand. After a moment, he chuckled, dropping your hand and running his own through his hair. He didn’t seem to care when the motion pushed his glasses off his head and to the ground--in fact, Greed barely noticed, his laugh building into a hearty noise that was something between amusement and disbelief.

“So you’re the one!” He exclaimed.

Your brows furrow. 

“I’m the...one…?” You weren’t sure what he was getting at, confusion and caution quickly filling your thoughts as the light of the sun continues to dim. It was starting to get late, and your mind was already overfilled with thoughts and questions--it had barely registered what it meant that both of you had the same tattoo on your hands. “I’m sorry sir, but I need to get home, I appreciate your help and--”

“You’re the one who kept writing all those messages on my arms years ago.”

You stopped speaking, his mere sentence filling you with something akin to a revelation. Memories from years ago filled your mind, all of the nights spent writing up and down the bare skin of your arms, hoping that there would be a reply. 

_ Who are you? What does the tattoo mean? What is your name? Where do you live? _

None of the questions had ever been answered, but you were amazed by the fact that he had seen them--had read them--that the man before you was the one the mark on your hand had been pulling you to.

You never once imagined meeting your soulmate like that, in the middle of a forgotten back road after he saved you from a near-assault.

For some reason, the only logical response that seemed to override everything else was, in fact, to grab the nearest cloth grocery bag and try to hit the man with it. It seemed fair at the time, admittedly, something that your thoughts had all come to agree on.

“You could have said something back!” You can feel a moment of simmering anger at the end of your words as you speak, failing to hit Greed when he merely jumped back. “Answered at least one of my questions! I still barely know what this mark is on my hand because of you.”

Slowly, you stand onto your feet, almost glaring at Greed as you compose yourself once more. You have heard plenty of stories of people finding their soulmates, and they all usually are fairly romantic. Finding them at a party. Meeting them through a friend. Pursuing them in an adventure, the constant clues and messages passed from one another through bare skin and markers.

Of all the people who had to be your soulmate, you had to get an asshole.

Greed seemed, if only slightly, apologetic. He raised his hands, palm-forward, and spoke earnestly.

“Listen, I didn’t even know a guy like me qualified for that sorta shit,” He tried to offer another grin, wide and sheepish. “I’m not exactly a normal person, sweetheart.”

You felt your brows furrow again. The confusion must have been obvious on your face, yet Greed took a step closer, and then another, moving until the two of you were almost intimately close.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy to know that I was wrong,” He said, just over a whisper in that same, deep voice that left your heart practically shivering. “It’s good to finally meet you, soulmate. It seems that we have a lot to talk about in getting to know one another.”

The moment stuck, the air stilled, and suddenly you found yourself in such a crazy situation. Standing in the middle of a darkened alley, streetlights starting to turn on, with a man who saved you and who just so happened to be your soulmate. He felt dangerous, mysterious, but the look in his brilliant eyes was nothing short of excited joy as he looked at you. 

It was the same look of relieved joy when someone found something they had lost.

Before you could gather up your thoughts, there was a sudden motion and--

He was kissing you. You felt the sudden warmth of lips against your own, the quick, chaste feeling of intimacy that sent your thoughts into a fervent explosion. Hands were on your waist, there was a pressure of another body against your own, pushing you back just enough to feel the entirety of Greed against you.

And then he was pulling away, leaving you breathless from the emotion, the moment, and the kiss itself. 

“Holy fuck, so it is true what they say,” Greed leaned down to pick up his glasses, gently putting them back over his eyes before he started to collect your scattered groceries. “The first kiss with your soulmate really is something amazing! And here I thought you were shitting me with a prank or something.”

He either didn’t notice you standing there, frozen in shock, or he simply was letting you come back to yourself on your own time. He continued to gather your groceries, putting them all back in their respective bags.

“No!” You finally got your thoughts together, letting them fall into a moment of clarity as you huff towards Greed and caught his attention just as he had collected the last of your fallen food. “You can’t…!”

“Can’t….?” He tilted his head. 

You huffed again, poking a finger into his chest. Heat started to rise over your cheeks. 

“You can’t just kiss me like that! I don’t care if you are my soulmate, I deserve a chance to sit down and talk with you first!” You jab your finger into his chest again, which only seems to further the man’s amusement. He gently lifts your grocery bags up for you to take, though he only offered a few bags.

“Well then,” He whispered. “How about we start with walking you home first?”

You considered the offer, as well as the fact that you’d have someone else helping you carry the bags. Your acceptance came wordlessly, merely taking the few bags that Greed offered before you started walking, with him following in-step with you.

“....So, is your name actually Greed?” 

“Hell yes it is,” he laughed. “It’ll make sense when we talk about it over dinner.”


End file.
